


I'm Sorry

by fxreflies



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), mavel
Genre: Angst, Angst ?, Happy Peter, Infinity War, Iron Dad, Peter Parker - Freeform, im sorry, smol, tony stark - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 10:24:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15993260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fxreflies/pseuds/fxreflies
Summary: No body is perfect; people make mistakes. We're human. Peter Parker is among those humans. And, well, let's just say he's apologizing quite often.[A fluffy story where Peter does something and is sorry. Involves "Mr. Stark". Almost like a "four times Peter apologized" and well, the fifth time...you'll just have to read it.]





	1. Up All Night to Get Lucky

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, there. Thanks for clicking on this story! I think it's going to turn out to be almost like a "four times Peter says sorry" thing and the last chapter...well...you'll see :). 
> 
> This is the first one, obviously, and I hope you enjoy. all the chapters are currently finished because I posted this story on other websites first.
> 
> Once again, thanks for checking out this piece of...work? Art? Whatever, and I love reviews. :D

He scrambled to find a changer. Being Spider-Man, you'd think he was past losing his iPhone plug, but no. Also, not to mention that it was currently 2:39am on a Wednesday and the little corner store would really like to close.

The cashier groaned in anticipation of finally leaving after a long day of work. His head rolled around on his neck in boredom. "Listen," he started, softly, as if there was no confidence in his voice. "I know you're busy doing...whatever, but I'm a big fan and-"

"Here!" Peter Parker shouted, triumphally raising his hand, full of an iPhone Apple charger. He really wouldn't need a charger for a phone like this if it wasn't for Tony Stark. He wouldn't have a lot of things if it wasn't for Mr. Stark. Peter, chin up, walked to the cash register and placed the charger on the desk.

"Never mind," the cashier finished, picking up the charger and scanning it for the price. "$4.50 is your total...Spider-Man."

Peter was busy digging in the little skin tight pocket on the side of his suit. "What? Oh, $4.50? The price tag said it was-"

"You didn't add tax, genius," the cashier interrupted. His hands rubbed his eyes in an attempt to wipe away the sleep. "You ain't seem so good at this, hm?"

Peter smirked under the mask. "You could say." He slapped a five dollar bill on the desk and a quiet little slap filled his ears. He looked down and the face of Peter Parker stared back. Quickly, he grabbed his identity card off the floor, happy the store was otherwise empty. "Uh, keep the change," he said, grabbing his newly purchased charger and the receipt.

Peter threw a thanks over his shoulder and pushed open the door, swinging out and feeling the cool, early morning air against his body. He landed on a decently tall building around the block and swung his legs over the edge. Peter took another look at the charger and inhaled. He slowly took off his mask and ruffled up his hair. The streets below were basically empty, not including that corner store owner that finally got to lock the doors and leave. Peter stuffed the iPhone plug in his mask and rubbed his eyes. Man, was he tired. He leaned back and let his head fall back, as well, looking up at the night sky.

He knows it's bad to say up like this, but it's so quiet and beautiful. He would have been home already but he was webbed up in some eight block car chase and had to refocus for a bit. That was when his brain decided it was good time to tell him he needed a phone charger. Peter huffed at remembering he had to get up for school in a few hours. So, even though his body wanted to decide against it, he pushed himself into a standing position, slipped his mask on, and with the charger in one hand and a web ready in the other, he tossed himself off the building and swung home.

He was maybe a block or so away when someone whisper-yelled some colorful words beneath him. He looked down mid-swing and saw a person attempting to pick a house lock with a bobby pin. Okay, wow, that's cheap. Peter silently hopped onto the house's roof and stared at the person. They were female, and kept messily running both hands through their frizzled hair. Peter web-slung behind the woman.

"So, uh, this your house?"

The woman made a startled gasp, her hand to her chest. "Oh, my-" she yelped, turning around and facing the spider. "A warning would be nice."

"Sorry, hello, I'm approaching you now," Peter rephrased. "Do you live here?"

"Yes, and the key-"

"-Is in the house, yeah - do you have an alarm?"

The woman looked at her feet for a split second. "I'm working on it."

Peter walked around the woman and picked up the bobby pin. "And you've tried everything else? No family members with a key?"

"Nope, do your worst."

He tried with the bobby pin for a little while before he realized that was getting him no-where. He looked up and around the edge of the house. "That window? It's opened," said Peter, pointing up near where the attic would be. "Where does it go?"

"I think it's the attic entrance in my room," the woman replied.

Peter turned around and faced her. "Mind if I...?" he trailed off.

"No, no, go ahead."

Peter shot a web in each hand and pulled back, creating tension in the webs to sling-shot him up. When he let go, he soar through the air and stuck to the house's edge. He pushed open the window all the way and slipped through. It was dark inside the empty house - and he had no idea where he was going. The darkness almost made Peter's eyes get heavy and droop close. That was until he found the latch to the bedroom and turned a light on.

Everything got easier from there. He opened the bedroom door and entered a hallway from where he jumped down the stairs like a little kid. And the front door was right in front of the steps. He untwisted the locks and a rush of cool night air hit him.

"There," he said.

The woman had been pacing outside in anticipation. She stopped when she heard Peter and almost hugged him. "T-thank you!"

"Anytime, but try to bring a house key next time, okay?"

"Yes, of course. I hope I didnt cause you any trouble," the woman replied. "Please, would you like a drink?"

Peter shook his head. "No, I think I'm gonna head home and sleep. I've got-" he cut himself off. I've got school tomorrow. "-things early in the morning to finish up."

"Yeah, silly me, sorry, go home and sleep! It's late," she responded. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Peter got a running start and then leaped into the air and started to swing home, once again. If anything, that made him more tired. He kind of wished the person was breaking in.

When he reached his run down apartment, Peter, as quietly as possible, slid open the window and entered his bedroom. He didn't want to wake Aunt May. After his window was closed - but not locked so he could do the same thing again tomorrow night - he changed into a t-shirt and plugged his phone in. Although sleep didn't come as easy as it should have, Peter eventually fell into a dreamless sleep.

He groggily woke up just hours later and rushed to school. Not much happened during those seven hours except for Peter wishing he was in bed. Everyone knew he was off his game, including Ned. Peter almost fell asleep in one class if it wasn't for the teacher suddenly calling his name on a loop.

And when he finally got home, he grabbed the blanket and plopped himself on the couch to take a nap. He really didn't care about his homework or his growling stomach. He needed sleep. And it came easier than the night before. As soon as his eyelids shut, his breath slowed down and he was asleep.

Eventually, Peter stirred in his sleep. The couch suddenly got uncomfortable and a ringing fills his ears. That was, until he realized it wasn't just any ringing - it was his blasted phone ringing. He tossed the blanket off his lower half, leaning on the arm rest and stretched to the little table to unplug his phone. He answered it with a questionable hello.

The other line let out a deep breath. "Thank God," it said.

Peter felt his eyes widen when the voice finally sunk in and clicked. It was Tony Stark.

"Uh, Mr. Stark?" Peter said slowly, as if he was butt dialed or this was the wrong number.

"Jeez, kid, you almost gave me a heart attack," replied Tony.

Peter twisted around and grabbed the blanket. He tossed it on himself and the cold air washed away. "...how?" was his small answer.

"Happy called me and said he didn't get one of those daily reports last night and I worried something had happened," Tony declared. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Peter said, pulling himself into a sitting position on the couch.

Tony inhaled. "You don't sound fine."

"I was just taking a nap; I'm tired." Peter noticed how right Tony was. His voice was scratchy, his eyes hurt, and all his limbs felt heavy. He checked the time and realized it has been a good few hours. Time for dinner and the night's patrol.

"How many hours of sleep did you get last night?"

Peter cringed at realizing how little the number is. He already knew how Tony was going to react. "Three?" he hesitated. "Tops."

"Three!" Tony repeated.

Peter rubbed away the sleep from his eyes. "I'm fine, though, it happens all the time when there's a lot of crime."

"But there wasn't much crime last night, now was there?"

"No?"

Tony paused for a second, letting to where he was leading the conversation sink it. "So where were you?"  
"I was at the corner store getting a phone charger; mine broke. Then some woman locked herself out of her house."

"Kid, I've got plenty - you could just come borrow one of mine," Tony replied. "It's no big deal."

"At three in the morning it might be," Peter said. "Mr. Stark, listen though, it's okay. I'm fine."

"Do you know," Tony started, "how many times I said that I was fine before and I actually wasn't?"

"No?" repeated Peter.

"Me neither, but it sure is a lot," Tony concluded. "Hang on, kid-"

"It's okay, I'm sorry," Peter interrupted. "It was just a night."

"It's not okay, because soon it will be a week, then a year and you'll realize you're not sleeping. You'll feel sick and dizzy and it's bad for your health," Tony said. "And then you'll feel like you should move to the other side of the world to suit your sleep patterns."

Peter blinked. "Uh?"

"Never mind that, kid," Tony said, "I'm-it's just- I'm worried about you."

"I'm sorry."

"You're okay, but..." Tony trailed off, once again stuttering with his words. "If you need anything, don't feel like you can't contact me?"

"Alright."

"Or if your aunt needs anything, too."

"Hey!"

Tony forced a laugh. "For real, kid. There's nothing I can't buy."

Silence took over the conversation.

"Wait?" Tony pipped up. "She locked herself out?"

Peter smiled. "Yeah, I thought I was gonna have to throw a rock at a window or something, but there was one open at the top," he informed. "Listen, Mr. Stark, I, uh, I gotta go made dinner when Aunt May comes home-"

"Yeah, okay!" Tony interrupted. "Tryna get rid of me, I see."

"No, it's just I've also got things to do, and-"

"I understand, kid, go get 'em."

"...bye," Peter replied.

"C'ya."

Peter hung up. He stood up and wiggled his legs, then walked to the kitchen. That was when he heard the apartment door click open. He looked over to see his aunt enter their home.

"Hey, Peter, nice phone call? You really gonna make dinner?" she laughed. "I waited outside until you were finished."

"Oh, thanks," he replied. "...What is for dinner, anyways?"

Aunt May tossed her purse on the island in the kitchen. "You tell me, Pete," she responded, leaning on the counter. "How was school?"

"Same as always, I guess."

"Good, well, you okay to go out for dinner? No work to do?" May asked, turning her head to the side in question.

Peter shrugged. "I'm all good here," he lied.

May grabbed her purse again and together they walked down the block to a restaurant and ate. When they returned, Peter slipped into his room to so called sleep and went out for the nights patrol. Then, yet again he was up again at three am. But his time, he was finishing his chemistry homework.


	2. It's Free Real Estate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No body is perfect; people make mistakes. We're human. Peter Parker is among those humans. And, well, let's just say he's apologizing quite often.
> 
> irony is strong in this chapter my dudes

Tony Stark sat in his fine leather chair in his workshop. Of course it was a swivel chair, so that he could spin and move around from desk to desk with ease. And, because a chair with wheels is always more fun. It was nearly two in the morning and he was working on something. What he was quite working on he didn't really remember, but he knew that it was important.

Papers of all sorts were sprawled across the desk and the floor. It was a mess that Tony should really look into cleaning. But he didn't care since he was the only one that ever came into the room. There was a half finished coffee mug on the desk, and it tilted when he picked it up.

Groggily, Tony watched little drops of coffee spill over the edge and onto the pearl white papers on the desk. He muttered some colorful words before reaching for a paper towel to clean up the mess. Those papers were probably important?

It didn't matter as much as what FRIDAY was saying in the background.

"Sir, there is someone at the front door."

Just on que, the doorbell echoed through the tower.

"Who?"

"It appears to be...Spider-Man."

Tony's head snapped up and he was now wide awake. "Tell him I'm coming," he ordered.

"At once," FRIDAY replied. "Then try to get some rest, sir."

Tony dabbed the papers a little too rough with the towel and downed the rest of his coffee. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and quickly hurried to the front door, eager to see Peter Parker, but praying to the gods that nothing was wrong.

~.~.~

Finally, she was done cleaning. Finally, he could go save the innocent souls across New York.

May had decided that the apartment wasn't tidy enough. And she wouldn't let Peter leave until it was spotless to her approval. That is, even Peter's room itself had to be clean. Let's just say it took a lot of words to convince May not to go in there - she might open up the closest and when a spandex suit and web-shooters fall out, she will definitely not be pleased. Although when Peter did grab his backpack to take a walk and maybe stop at Ned's he was positive May did end up walking in her nephew's room.

But that was okay now. It was fine now that he had the suit stashed away in his backpack. He quickly changed and was currently scooping out the city of Queens. It was a really hot Saturday, and Peter was actually considering not going out web-slinging. He was sweating in the suit. And, oh, it was so nice and air conditioned in his apartment.

Peter shook his head. No, he needs to stay and help. He got this powers for a reason.

He jumped from the building and web-slung around the city. That moment when he was so close to the ground excited him. He was always inches from giving a random citizen a high-five. Most of the time, he made it work. And he knew that people loved just seeing him almost float above them as they hurried to work. It gave them hope that someone cared to look out for them.

And some times, that's all people needed: hope.

The day of spider work was somewhat boring. No more alien tech, no more Germany; just plain old street crimes. Just some wanna-be villains and their poor excuse of a plan. But that made it all the more boring. It was just the simple, oh, let me run by and grab his woman's purse, kind of deal. No escape vehicles, no buddy-buddy system to help them get away, no secret alleys with a disguise. Honestly, it was like child's play.  
And that made Peter's quips all the more interesting.

He hung from lampposts, watched birds fly by. Peter even went to the dollar store a few times to buy some chips to snack on. Maybe, yes, you could call it slacking on the job, but after a while, New York got kind of boring.

That was, until he heard an alarm blast throughout the block. He immediately swung right side up on the sign he was hanging on and looked to where the noise was blaring from: that sweet little man with the phone chargers was being robbed.

"Finally," Peter breathed, jumping off the sign and swinging into action.

He made it down the block in only a couple short seconds and surveyed the area. There appeared to be four men: one watching the front entrance, another at the back, the third had a gun to the cashier, and the last was walking through the isles, knocking things down and giving death stares at the other people in the store.  
A plan was already formed in his head.

He jumped on top of the building and mentally paused when he heard the gunshot-

Wait, that wasn't part of the plan. A gunshot?

Peter stood up on the roof of the store and ran to where the door was located. He then leaped off, spinning around and webbed the top of the doors and flew in. On his way inside, he made sure to kick the man watching square in the chest; he flew all the way to the cashier, tumbling into the one with the gun.  
Of course Peter had a quip for his action, too. "Annnd, timber!" he yelled.

Peter landed on his feet. He heard some incoherent commands coming from the guy with the gun - presumably he was the leader -as he stood up and pushed his teammate off of him. In a matter of seconds, the man who was walking through the isles - he had a yellow mask on, I might add - pushed the shelves down and they crashed like dominos.

"Aw, c'mon, I liked this store," Peter whined, shooting a web out just in time to get Yellow Mask's hand stuck to the shelf he pushed. He did it a few more times all around his body, as well, so the man was immobilized and out of the picture.

Peter then climbed on the roof. He needed to get the gun off of the leader before anyone gets hurt. He realized all the other shoppers were huddled together in a corner, safe. Good, so he wouldn't need to worry about them. So instead, he focused on the gun. Peter shot a web at the gun in the man's hand and yanked it towards him.

"Give. It. Here!" Peter yelled as if he was determined to win this tug of war battle.

The man's grip was like metal and the presumed leader fell before finally letting go. Peter made sure the gun was secure to the ceiling before dropped to the floor to web-sling the leader up as he layed dazed on the floor. That was when he remembered he needed to find the shop owner-

Crisp pain shot through his jaw. He groaned out before cocking his head to the side and looking to where the hit was taken from. Well, here was the guy guarding the front door with a pipe in his hand. Peter shot at his ankles, taking the man down before making sure he couldn't get away. Then he looked around back where the last person should be.

No one was there; he must have sprinted away while he hand the chance.

Slowly, Peter walked back into the store. "Is everyone okay?" he asked the shoppers. Nods came as a reply. "Someone call the police. Does anyone know where the owner is?"

One person pointed near the cash register, as if the store owner was simply laying on the floor.

Peter grunted as he lifted up the isles enough so that everyone could squeeze by and out of the store. He dropped them in a huff and returned to the back of the shop. His fingered traced over the bullet hole which was deep inside one of the store walls. It seemed to be a warming, that they weren't messing around.  
He was just glad it didn't imbed itself into anyone.

Peter leaned over the clerk desk and let out a breath he didn't know he was holding in. There was the owner, curled up in a ball as he whimpered. Just as Peter was telling the owner it was okay, the police sirens entered his hearing. Eventually, cops piled into the store, helping the civilians sitting by the sidewalk and the store owner as he finally entered reality again.

Peter received a few thanks as he swung away from the crime scene.

That was pretty much the highlight of his day. The rest was just as boring as it started to be. And so Peter thought it was a good idea to head home a little early tonight. Plus, there was some homework he could finish before he really had to worry about it tomorrow on Sunday. He figured that it was in his best bet to call it a night. So Peter slipped his backpack on and started to web-sling home.

Peter crawled up the edge of the building. He was so close to his nice bed in that sweet, sweet air condition. He positioned himself so that he could open his bedroom window and slip through, but it wouldn't work. Not that the window was broken or anything, but it wouldn't open. Peter tried again. He panicked inside; if he couldn't get inside, May would worry, and he'd be left outside for the night. And then people would realize that Spider-Man sleeps on a bench and-

There was no way he was going to enter the apartment from the front door and knock on his room, wake up his aunt, and get in like that. No way he would do that to her. She's busy enough and needs sleep. He couldn't make her worry like that. It would seem strange if he showed up, especially when he said he would be at Ned's. And, well, he couldn't go back to Ned's - he was really at his grandparents. Peter was running out of options here. Ugh, now he feels like that woman from the other night. It was almost two in the morning - if he tried to go somewhere else it would be just weird and suspicious. Everyone was sleeping.

Except...

His mind said it was a stupid, horrible option, but his body was already taking him there.  
Because, well, because he didn't have any other place to go.

He started to get just the slightest bit cold - although it felt good - on his way to Stark Industries. Or Avenger's Tower? Whatever it was, Peter knew Mr. Stark would be there and he would be awake.

The streets below him where only lit up by the lamps...and the occasional iPhone from a rushing by-passer. Peter wondered how this would play out. He knew it was a stupid decision but desperate times call for desperate measures. Although he was for sure he'd get scolded about not sleeping and not having a key to get inside his own apartment.

Eventually, he reached that dreaded moment; he finally reached his destination. It felt a little good, knowing soon he would be able to sleep and that he didn't run out of webbing.

And he was actually thinking about going in through a window. Peter was sure there were more than enough rooms for him to sleep in one without being noticed. Although FRIDAY would probably alert Tony of a breakin. Peter decided against the window and more towards something classical: the doorbell.

He silently waited at the front door like a little kid behind their parent's leg. It didn't take quite long before he heard something moving inside the building.

"Tony Stark is on his way."

Peter jumped at the voice. Then he didn't know where to look to respond, if he should even respond. So Peter just nodded and kept looking at the ground. He knew that was FRIDAY and now he also knew and Mr. Stark knew he was waiting at the door. Peter looked behind him at the empty streets and slowly took of his mask. He thought it was impolite to greet Tony with his full suit on after they already knew who Spider-Man really was.

Eventually, the door opened. Tony leaned on the frame and Peter realized he was visually checking for any injures.

"You're not missing a limb?" Tony asked.

Peter looked up, but anywhere than Tony's eyes. "Uh, no, I'm not."

"So, you're here...why?"

"I got locked out of my apartment," Peter said softly, "and I though just for one night that-"

Tony snorted a laugh. "Spider-Boy locked himself out? Isn't your aunt home?"

"She's sleeping and I can't wake her up all suspicious like that; I said I'd be at Ned's."

"So go-"

"He's at his grandparents." Peter put his hands up and started to gesture. "I know I'm s'posed to be sleeping, and you're probably mad but I don't want to sleep on a bench tonight, Mr. Stark, and I have no where else to go. I'm sorry if I bothered you or something, but I kind of panicked."

Tony was silent. When Peter finally met his eyes, he wasn't mad at all. In fact, he was almost smiling. 

"You done yet?"

"Y-yeah."

"You ready to come inside?"

"If it's okay."

"Kid, of course it's okay - I'm not gonna make you sleep on a bench."

Peter exhaled and took a step forward, entering the house. His first instinct told him to look around and admire the beautiful interior; that's exactly what he did. It never got old, not to some kid who lives in a small New York apartment. Everything looked expensive: the furniture, walls, floors, gosh, even the lights and the doors looked like they were worth more then Peter's whole apartment.

"So," Tony started. "I'm just gonna give you an extra bedroom. It has its own bathroom, so you don't have to worry about that." He led Peter down a hall, and pointed to an open door. "I'll be in there, if you need me. And the kitchen is over...there." Tony spun around and pointed into another direction.

"You'll be good, right?" he concluded.

Peter nodded. "Yes, I'll be fine, thank you," he said.

They had stopped walking and Tony pushed open a wooden door. Peter poked his head inside before fully entering. The bed was covered in silky sheets and it had a beautiful view out of the window.

"Wow," Peter breathed.

"If you need something, tell FRIDAY, otherwise I'm right down the hall." Tony slowly closed the door and walked back to the workroom.

Peter entered the bathroom. He tossed his backpack on the sink and unzipped it, bringing out his change of clothes. After he was dressed and went to the bathroom, he jumped on the bed. It was like a cloud. Before heading to sleep, Peter texted his aunt that he was saying over at a friends house and that she didnt need to worry.

And finally, Peter shut off the lights and headed to sleep.

He woke up around ten. Peter didn't want to over stay his welcome, so he gathered up a pen and paper, and wrote Tony a short thank you letter. Then he silently tiptoed through the halls, giggling when he passed the door where Tony was leaning on a desk snoring. Peter made it to the front door and unlocked it.

He jumped at the sudden voice once again.

"Goodbye, Peter."

He smiled, throwing a "Bye, FRIDAY," over his should as he left the building and got on a bus back to Queens.

~.~.~

Tony Stark, on the other hand, woke up a little past two pm. He rubbed his eyes, trying to get rid of leftover sleep, and headed into the hallway.

FRIDAY greeted him. "Good afternoon, sir. Mr. Parker has left a note in his room. Shall I read it to you?"

"Nah, I'll read it myself," Tony replied, entering the guest room. He sat on the bed and picked up the lightly crumpled note.

Dear Mr. Stark,  
Thank you for letting me stay over for the night. I'm sorry I had to leave so early, but I need to get back home before May starts calling my friends. I appreciate it and hope I didn't cause you any trouble.  
From,  
Peter

Tony looked up. The room was just as spotless as it was before. The bed was even made. "Did he eat anything?" Tony asked.

"No, he did not," FRIDAY answered, "but he did laugh as he passed you sleeping in the workroom."

Tony smiled, taking in a breath. "Of course he did."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if there was paragraph errors in this chapter or honestly any of them


	3. A Knife to a Spider Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No body is perfect; people make mistakes. We're human. Peter Parker is among those humans. And, well, let's just say he's apologizing quite often.
> 
> car chase n scars

"Do you promise?"

"Ned, I've been up past three the past few nights as Spider-Man; if anyone needs to worry about not pulling an all nighter, it's you."

"But do you promise you won't bail out like you've done every other time?"

Peter hesitated. "I don't know-" He cut himself off. He really had no idea if he could go a night without Spider-Man. How could he just ignore that itching feeling at the back of his head that there was danger?

"Fine, whatever, I understand - actually, I don't at all. I'll let you leave only if it's like an ten point five on my death scale."

"Wha-...ten point five?"

"As in like, oh my gosh they all have guns and we're all gonna die because the police miraculously can't get to us, kinda thing."

"Just unlock the door, Ned."

Ned fumbled with the keys as he scoffed. They jingled and dropped to the ground. Peter smirked, taking his hand out of his sweatshirt pocket and pointing his fingers down towards the ground. He and shot a web; the keys on the floor connected with his home-made substance and he flung it back up to him. Peter held the keys out to Ned and smiled.

"Here you go," said Peter, repositioning his hood and stuffing his hand back into his pocket after Ned took the keys.

"What did I just say, dude?"

"Hey, I didn't wear the suit," replied Peter. "I didn't think using the webs were against the rules."

"You're actually right; and it's pretty freakin' amazing."

Ned still seemed awestruck that his best friend was a superhero. Peter honestly loved it. And sometimes, even though he went out web-slinging just about every night, he still thought it was incredible that it was actually him. Who would have thought that Peter - some nerdy New Yorker - would have saved as many lives as he had? Surely not Peter himself.

After Ned finally got his house door unlocked, the two boys entered and started to run straight upstairs. Ned led the way into his room. It was just as cluttered with nerdy items as Peter's was.

Peter plopped into the computer chair and spun in a circle. "Do you have the snacks?" he asked, bobbing his head around with the motion of the chair.

The blur that was Ned bent under the bed and pulled out a few plastic shopping bags. He showed the contents to Peter as he slowed down. "I couldn't forget my favorite thing ever," Ned replied, delighted to have such a large selection of junk food at his fingertips.

"Ned, you're favorite thing is right here," Peter said, implying himself. He snickered and continued to spin.  
"I'm not even gonna reply to that," said Ned. He sat on the bed and slid the food back underneath. "Anyways, my parents are working late tonight, so we should be good. Just try to fake sleep when they come inside - or be quiet."

"Yep, got it. Lie to your parents."

"No, that's-"

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding."

They sat. They watched movies. Time came and passed. Peter had to slap Ned once because he yawned - and there was an unspoken rule of no yawning. If you yawned, the yawn spread and soon you were snoring on the floor. Around one am, Peter heard an engine shut off outside. Soon after, the front door unlocked. They nudged each other. Ned paused the tv and flipped his bed sheet over himself as he laid on the bed, covering most of the food. At the same time, Peter collected the empty bag of Doritos on the floor and tossed a blanket over the tv so the light wasn't visible. He then crashed on the futon in the corner.

He heard Ned giggling. "Dude, shut up," Peter hissed.

"Sorry," Ned replied, "I'm just so happy that the plan worked."

"Not if you keeping making it obvious that we're awake."

Yes, the plan did work - the room was dark and they were "sleeping". If it wasn't for that itchy feeling that Peter had. The back of his skull was tingling. Oh, not now, he thought. He tried to ignore the fact that there was danger and instead focused on the footsteps coming closer to the room he was inside.

Light dipped in Ned's bedroom from the hallway. Peter could just make out a smile on the face of one of Ned's parents before the door was shut. Peter waited a minute more until silence returned to the house - they were officially in bed and the night was back on.

But Peter couldn't take it. His head was killing him; the little tingle turning into a full-on beatdown. He tossed the blankets off of his body and stood up, pacing around the room. Something was happening. Someone was being hurt. His hands wrapped around his hand and pushed, trying to lessen the pain.

"Hey, man, you okay?"

"Ned," he breathed, grabbing his backpack and unzipping it, "Ned, something is happening."

"What's going on?"

"It's...Ned," Peter started. "Someone's in trouble." He pulled out his suit from his backpack and was already undressing himself.

Ned pushed himself into a sitting position. "Uh, alright, I think this is more than a ten point five."

Peter slapped the spider on his chest and his suit tightened. He quickly tossed his clothes in his backpack, zipping it. The tingle was still there, but not as painful as it was just moments ago. "Open the window."

"Oh, uh, okay," Ned replied, hesitantly unlocking his window. The cool night air rushed in.

Within seconds, Peter was outside. His fingertips gripping the side of Ned's house. "Sorry, dude, but I gotta go. I promise I'll be back soon."

He didn't hear his best friend's reply; he was already in action, thinking. The light breeze took place and horns were honked. Someone screamed. There was a car driving down the very road where moments ago, Peter was re-watching all the Star Wars movies. He could tell it was speeding way too much. And if he didn't do anything soon, it was going to crash right into Ned's house because doing a turn at this speed, quick enough, was basically impossible.

Peter web-slung closer to the vehicle - he made it three houses before he had to really act. He started to swing across to the right side of the street - made sure the web got stuck to one of the houses - and then shot a web to the left side of the car. He then dangled over the front lawn of one of Ned's neighbors as he pulled the webs in an attempt to swerve the car to the right just enough so it would not connect into any houses.

It's not that he was helping the driver, no. He just was a bit shaken up and didn't want it to crash right into his friend's house with his sleeping parents. Not when the chance to fix that problem is right in front of him. It was the best on-the-spot plan he could think of.

And it worked. The car leaned right and continued down the road. It would've worked even better if Peter let go of the web and dropped instead of his current situation. The web connecting to the house snapped due to the pull and the speed of the car had basically forced Peter into the same direction as the driver was heading. 

He flung. In other words, he was now being dragged behind the car by one thin web. Trash cans crashed into Peter as he tried to find stability.

"Oh God," he grunted.

The tingle returned and Peter quickly looked up. There was a blur blocking out the light from the lampposts on the side of the road. He let go of the web with one hand and used it to create another web to swing the trash can lid behind him. Then he realized that cop cars were trailing like fangirls behind the speeding vehicle.

Police sirens in the background almost made Peter think about something else – if it wasn't for the glass window that the car had just crashed into. He tried to dodge it, but just wasn't as easy as it seems due to the fact the car was still speeding and he had no good grip on the situation. Little broken pieces of glass spewed above the top of the car and rained down on him.

Something sliced his right arm, then his right leg. He let out a yelp before instinct really kicked in. Instead of being held on by one web stuck to the front headlight of the car, Peter shot a web at the top of the rear of the vehicle. He gripped it and yanked himself forward before repeating the process. Within a few minutes, he successfully had a hand on the back bumper.

That was when things got worse.

The car had crashed and Peter flew forward.

He had just missed the top of the car so instead of rolling down it onto whatever the driver crashed into, Peter spun in the air. His vision was a blur. Before he knew it, he hit the ground. Man, it hurt. Those pieces of whatever - glass? - that cut his body stung.

His bones ached. But there was still work to be done, so he pushed himself up. Peter wiggled his limbs as he took in his surroundings; it was still a suburban neighborhood. Then he blinked in disbelief at the holes in his suit. He was actually cut by the glass, suit and all. He hesitantly hovered a hand over the cuts scattered around his body. It could be worse. At least he wasn't bleeding out.

But how would the suit become stitched up?

Peter shook his head and looked forward at the collided cars. The one that he was strung to appeared to have slammed into another driver. But they were both empty. He limped over to the vehicles and peered inside. Empty. The air bags were blown, but it seemed no one was effected. Peter spun around in circles to see if anyone tried to make a run for it.

He turned back to the police, who were slowly coming out of their cars.

Then he heard her whimper.

Behind Peter were two shadows, one in front of the other. Flashlights from the local police started to shine on Peter and the commotion taking place out of his sight. Carefully he turned around. His hands calmly went up in defense and he took in what happened.

The presumed wanted driver had a female - supposedly from the other car - in a choke hold.  
"Hey-" Peter said steadily, placing a foot forward.

He saw the man's arm tighten on his grip. He flashed to the left and right, the woman getting moaning in pain. "Don't," he said. "Don't come any closer." As he wiggled a hand into his back pocket, Peter felt the police shuffling behind him.

The teen put a hand up and the man revealed a knife. Great.

The now wanted man scruffed up his small beard and grunted. He pointed the knife around, the metal shinning off the flashlights.

Too bad Peter was not in the mood - he was tired. Honestly, he was kind of cold. And don't even get started on how he felt about the ripped up suit. He shot a web right at the knife with one web shooter, and the other wrapped around the hand holding the woman. Peter spread his arms apart, making the knife fall and the man's hostage jumped forward to the police to flee.

The first thing the man did was curse, but then he slid for the weapon. And before Peter could reach him in he had the knife, slashing it back and forth.

"Stand here," Peter announced, webbing the man's feet to the ground and the knife stuck to his leg. He yelled out. "Oh, and be quiet; people are sleeping." Peter smirked as the second web covered the man's mouth.

That was made a lot more difficult than it needed to be. The cops stormed the man and Peter flung away, hoping to reach Ned's house before his friend fell asleep. The way back was quiet and somewhat calming. If only there wasn't tire marks on the grass and trash cans scattered throughout the street. Peter huffed and knocked lightly on Ned's window.

His friend opened it and his jaw dropped. "Dude, that was awesome."

"Yeah, yeah," Peter murmured, just wanting to change and sleep. He slipped into his T-shirt and plopped onto the futon. "Ned, man, I could really use some sleep now."

"Oh, yeah," Ned replied. "Of course. Please don't get any blood in my room, though."

Peter replied with another huff. He stood up and tossed his suit into his backpack and entered the bathroom.

After a few minutes of cleaning the few cuts, he washed his hands and left. "Now, sleep."

"Whose gonna fix the suit, Pete?"

"I don't know."

Silence engulfed the room and eventually, it broke by the light snoring from two boys.

When Peter woke up, he refused to stay over and left after noon. He walked back to his house quickly and went straight to his room to look at the suit's damage. Both his right arm and leg were missing a huge chuck on the spandex like material. There was no way he was able to still work in something this broken.  
Peter glanced at his right limbs - the small cuts seemed to be healing nicely and he smiled. Then he realized how to fix the suit.

It was Sunday. It's been a little over a day since Peter experienced flying. He believed that it was time to finally give the suit to Tony and ask if it could be fixed. He realized that was the only way it would ever be the was no school today and Peter had no homework, so it wasn't like he was busy. He decided to take the bus.

He plopped into a seat in the back and waited for his stop. When the bus was close enough to where he needed to go, he got off and walked a block to the front door. The building towered in front of Peter. And it looked so different in the light of mid morning.

Peter gripped the strings of his backpack and sighed. He looked up at the bright blue sky. Once again, he rang the doorbell and Tony Stark answered it moments later. His hair was all frizzled up and one sleeve of the gray shirt he was wearing was pulled up.

"You're here again?"

Peter danced from foot to foot. "Uh, yeah, listen, there're some scratches in the suit and I was wondering-"  
"Let me take a look at them," Tony interrupted, waving Peter inside. He guided the high schooler to the presumed main room of the home and kicked his feet up as he sat down on one of the couches. "How'd it happen?"

Peter walked in seconds later and opened his backpack. He handed the ball that was his suit to Tony. Peter then slowly sat down. "So, I was at Ned's house and the back of my head started to tingle," Peter said.  
"Yeah, I still wanna figure that out, too, kid, but just cut to the chase." Tony cocked his head to the side and looked at the younger male.

"It was a car chase."

Tony took in a breath, but didnt say anything. Peter wondered why, exactly, but didnt bring anything up about it.

Tony finally started to unravel the clothing. He examined the scratches. "I can probably fix this in a day or two," he said eventually.

Peter exhaled. "Thank god, I thought I was gonna get scolded."

"Oh, kid, you are. I mean, what the hell? A car chase?" started Tony, tossing his hand up in the air; it looked like the Spider-Man suit was going to go flying. "You can't even drive and you're getting into car accidents."  
"I have my permit, and I spoke too soon."

Tony smirked. "I'm just messin' with ya," he added, "but now I've actually got work to do."

"Sorry..." Peter repeated himself, trailing off, forcing an awkward laugh.

"So, since I've got the suit, is the spider gonna take a break for a couple days?"

"Oh, no," responded Peter immediately. "I'll use the old suit if I have to."

"You mean those pajamas?"

"It's-there're not pajamas," Peter said. "Just a...sweatshirt."

"Why dont you be a normal kid and go to sleep before one am for a change?" Tony sarcastically suggested. "Or hang out with your aunt?"

Peter paused. "I'll focus on going to sleep before one am and doing my homework on a day other than when it's due."

"Smart," Tony replied. He slapped a hand on Peter shoulder and stood up. "Don't mean to rush you out or anything, but I have a meeting soon..."

"Oh, yeah, of course. Sorry." Peter bounced up, headed to the door already. "I just wanted to give you the suit, not invite myself over."

Tony snorted a laugh and walked to the door. "You're fine, kid," he answered.

Peter opened the front door and was half through it when he turned around and smile. "By the way, Mr. Stark, maybe you should try to sleep before one, also." Then he wiggles through the door the rest of the way and slipped into the crowd of people in New York City.


	4. Chapter 4

Tony murmured something illegible even for himself. His eyes slowly opened and then hissed shut at the light in the room. Man, he should have closed his blinds all the way. But this light was not the bright sunlight. It seemed different - it just shut itself off. Either the window was opened and blew the shades or it was a flashlight of some sort.

Sighing, Tony pushing himself into a sitting position and looked to where the light came from - his nightstand (he thought it was a little bit of a change that he actually went to sleep in his room at a reasonable time last night).

The light was his phone. It was a text.

From Peter.

So, hey, im goin to school and i was wondering how the suit was coming along?

He sent that a little later than seven in the morning. Five hours ago.

That's when a beautiful idea struck Tony.

just fine, he sent, standing up and stretching out of the bed, itll be finished today

~.~.~.

Peter Parker was all dressed, homework in his backpack, ready to catch the bus when he heard his aunt call his name.

"I, uh, May, I gotta go?" he stuttered, his hand on the frame of the front door.

May walked into the hallway. She, too, was dressed, although her hair was wet and covered in a striped towel. "I know, I know, but just please don't forget: I need you to pick up eggs on your way home from school."

Peter was half listening as he ran over to the window just in time to see a yellow blur coming down his street. "Yeah, okay, text me!" he called, slamming the door shut and hopping down the stairs to catch his bus.

Just as the bus doors were closing, Peter knocked on he glass of the doors. He had a little bit of luck that no one seemed to be laughing from inside. If he was just a second later, he would've missed his ride. The driver smiled and opened the door. Peter gave a thanks and plopped into the seat next to Ned. He let out a breath and ran a hand through his hair.

"Are you still bleeding?"

Peter turned to Ned, slightly confused. Then he remembered the events from two nights ago. Those few scratches that the glass impaled him with. "What? No, man, I'm fine. I heal like super quick."

"Of course you do, silly me," Ned replied. "Did you...is the suit okay now?"

"I think so?" Peter pulled out his phone and checked his text messages: nothing new from Tony Stark.  
"You have Iron Man's phone number."

"Yes, keep your voice down, Ned; he's the one with the suit."

Ned slapped his hands together. "Wow, this moment is amazing," he prayed, bowing his head.

The bus eventually pulled into the school parking lot and kids filed out. All day Peter was antsy with his phone, curious as to when he would finally get a reply about the suit's quality. It was stuffed into his pocked and every few minutes he would peak at it - but the notification screen would always be empty. In a couple classes, he was inches away from being caught. The day was restless and he eventually forgot how many times he ended up yawning.

Around noon, Peter's phone went off. He was pleased to see the response from Tony. Finally.

As usual, school was as boring as ever. He dragged himself out the front door, curious as to when today the suit would be done. He honestly was not looking forward to swinging around New York in a sweatshirt after having such high treatment with Stark. Although his day had been a pretty usual, uneventful day. However, maybe something a little out of the ordinary would make the day better.

It was only after the school day ended that it was a bit more exciting.

There was a familiar car parked outside the front entrance. The sleek black hood shined in the sun. Although when the tinted window shuffled down, it did not reveal the face of Happy Hogan; it was Tony Stark himself. At his school.

"Hey, kid," he said promptly. "Hop in."

Peter was star struck how someone so famous could just stroll up to his boring old high school. His mouth opened but no words came out: his finger pointed off to the buses where Ned was waving and Peter just...froze. "Uh, I, how-?"

Tony exhaled, setting his hand on the frame of the door. "Just get in before it looks like I'm trying to kidnap you."

"Yes, okay," Peter replied, nodding Ned off and getting into the back seat of the vehicle.

"You could have sat in the front."

Peter shuffled his legs as if he was uncomfortable and wanted to move to the front seat now. Actually, he just felt find of childish.

"Too late now, kid," Tony said, starting up the engine and driving off.

Peter looked to his right where a little party bag was sitting, tissue paper sticking out of the top. Tony noticed and looked in the mirror to the kid in the back.

"Oh, yeah, that's your suit," he said confidently. "Good as new."

Peter peeked into the bag. Not to his surprise was the red and blue spandex-like suit, no tears nor holes. The colorful glitter laced across the side of the bag stuck to his hand. "Thanks, but you didn't have to wrap it all up-"

His phone dinged. Peter stuck his hand into his back pocket and slipped it out. "Uh, sorry," he whispered, looking at the notification. May had sent him a text.

may ❤️️  
dont forget the eggs!

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Woah, what's wrong? Can't be worse then some of these people's driving skills. I mean, if you can't obey the rules you shouldn't be on the road."

Peter looked up, a small smirk on his lips.

"Never mind," Tony said. "What's up?"

"Can you not take me home?"

 

"...Why?"

"I forgot about the eggs; I need to go to the store and buy some."

Tony shook his head softly. "That's no big deal, kid."

Suddenly, the car shifted left and was on course for the closest store. Peter silently looked out the window during the short trip. The skyscrapers were touching the bright blue sky and white, fluffy clouds. It was a beautiful day. And now it was exciting too. It really isn't everyday you get driven around town by your idol. Peter almosted wish Ned was here, so he would witness the greatness happening.

Eventually, Tony pulled to the side of the road and unbuckled his seatbelt.

"We're here," he said, turning around and facing the kid in the backseat. "You don't need me to like, come in with you or anything?"

Peter clicked his seatbelt off and shuffled to the door. "Nah, I'll be good," he replied, opening the black door.  
He exited the vehicle and entered the corner store. The cool air conditioning hit him like a lovely brick wall. 

As quickly as possible as to not make Tony wait outside, Peter found where the eggs are located and opened a dozen. He checked to make sure none were broken before picking up two cans of Coca-Colas, ice cold from the freezer. If Tony's driving him and fixing his clothes, the least Peter could do was buy him a drink.  
An age appropriate drink that Peter, too, could enjoy.

He placed the three items on the cashier desk and pulled out his thin wallet. After paying, he left the store and re-entered the backseat of the car. Peter placed the eggs underneath the bag with his suit and handed Tony a Coca-Cola.

"What's this for, kid?"

Peter snapped his own drink opened and brought it to his lips. "A thank you," he started, taking a sip of the cool, refreshing drink.

Tony's eyes softened in the mirror as he looked at Peter. "Uh, no problem," he said, popping open the can in his own hands and taking a gulp. "Alright, put your belt on; I don't want you flying through the windshield if one of these awful drivers hits us."

He listened for the click of a seatbelt before started the car and headed to Peter's house. "Do you have any homework?"

"Yeah. I've got to memorize some foreign countries and their capital."

"Did you sleep well last night?" Tony asked. "Actually wait, did you get any sleep last night?"

Peter chuckled. "As a matter of fact, yes I did," he answered, taking another sip of his drink. He swallowed. "...Did you?"

"I went to sleep in my room instead of some work table yesterday, thank you-"

The car seemed to skip a beat. It bounced in the air for a second before hastily landing onto the street. Almost in slow motion, Peter felt himself ricochet off the seat and into the air. His eyes got wide for second at the Coke in his hand before it hit the ground and spilled over.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry," he claimed as he scooped up the now almost empty can from the floor. Quickly he tossed the tissue paper from the bag containing the suit on to the spill in a lazy attempt to clean up the sticky drink.

At the same time Tony yelled: "Freaking potholes!"

"Mr. Stark, I swear it was an accident!"

"Why, what happened now?" Tong asked, clearly angry.

"Well, while you were driving and went into a pothole, I was drinking and it spilled all over the floor-"

"Woah. That's not a big deal."

"-and do you have napkins 'cause I'm pretty sure tissue paper is not going to do it?" He cautiously put his foot on top of the mini lake. "It'll get sticky soon."

"Kid, first off, we're at your house now," said Tony as his voice softened. He turned around faced Peter's red cheeks. "And second, you're okay."

"But..the coke?" he asked cautiously, just now recognizing the car was parked in front of his apartment.

"This is Happy's car."

"Oh, but won't he-"

Tony blinked. "He'll be fine, kid, I'll take care of it."

Peter grabbed his school bag and took a breath. "Thanks for driving me around today," he noted, opening the door.

"Yeah, anytime."

Before shutting the door, Peter made sure to grab the suit and nod his head apologeticly. He shoved it into his backpack quickly. As he walked into his apartment, he pulled out his phone and sent Happy Hogan a text saying he was sorry for the Coke. As usual, there was no reply. Peter unlocked the door and set the eggs in the fridge. When he closed it, May was standing with her hands on her hands on her hips.

"Who dropped you off?" she asked.

"Just a friend."

"Peter, a friend of yours with enough money to buy that kind of car? I wasn't born yesterday."

Peter sighed. "It was Mr. Stark; he picked me up from school and drove me to get the eggs."

"Okay..."

"Listen, I've got homework to do," Peter began, grabbing a bag of chips and heading to his room. "So if you'll excuse me."

May didn't respond. Peter shut and locked his door, emptying his backpack. The contents spilled over his bedroom floor. He pulled out the Spider-Man suit and checked it out: no holes or nothing. It felt nice to finally have it back in his possession. After throwing it in his cluttered closet, he opened his school binders and started his homework, eager for the nights patrol later.

~.~.~.

Tony, on the other hand, had to deal with two things.

The first one was cleaning up the Coca-Cola in the car. The tissue paper did not help at all. In fact, it probably made matters worse. The Coke was a little bit soaked up in the thin material otherwise it just made the floor even more sticky. The liquid swooshed around on the floor mat, picking up small crumbs of dirt.

Tony used a few paper towels before soaking a wet one on the floor so it wasn't sticky.

The second problem was a not too happy Happy.


	5. It's the End of the World as We Know It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No body is perfect; people make mistakes. We're human. Peter Parker is among those humans. And, well, let's just say he's apologizing quite often. 
> 
> "I'm waking up to ash and dust  
> I wipe my brow and I sweat my rust  
> I'm breathing in the chemicals"
> 
>  
> 
> iNHALE-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this has both tony and peter's pov mixed in but it's mostly peter up until the end - you'll be able to tell who's mind you're in.
> 
> Thanks for clicking on my story, however. I truly appreciate it! Reviews/ kudas would be nice, as well. (:
> 
> This is the last chapter to this short story. I'm so glad you're enjoying it and it was a pleasure to write. Thank you!
> 
> takes place during infinity war (;

Here he was, standing with some of the most amazing people in the universe. Where he was standing, he didn't quite know but he knew that it was a once in a lifetime experience. Here he was, fighting along side of Iron Man and a wizard. He picked up a few other teammates during the trip, and they seem pretty...extraterrestrial. The little old friendly neighborhood Spider-Man was all webbed up in saving the world against the most powerful being with the most powerful stones on some planet out in the middle of the galaxy.

And honestly, he loved it.

The adrenaline in his veins with the thought that this could be his last fight ever. He finally got a decent chance to prove how powerful he was to Iron Man. Other than the fact that he didn't listen and stayed on the weird flying hula-hoop in the sky, Mr. Stark should be impressed with him and his new Iron-Spider suit. Not many teenagers can say they've hung out with superheroes. And even less would be able to say they are one, let alone helped save the world. To be honest, Peter thought it was hilarious on his part for doing some of his own personal magic tricks...well, before getting strangled and thrown.

Yet, at first he felt a bit hopeless at hearing what they were up against; if anything went wrong poof! there goes half the universe's population. But then him and the odd bunch of friends were winning. The plan was to work together and make their enemy stationary long enough to get that weird bug lady on his head to distract him. They were seconds - seconds - from slipping that magical stone-filled gauntlet off the big powerful purple jolly-rancher named Thanos. If he just wouldn't have ticked off one of Peter's teammates...  
...than they would have won. 

Luckily, Peter was busy enough swinging around, grabbing his flying passed-out teammates to see how the end actually played out. He didn't get to witness Thanos win against that strange wizard or stab Mr. Stark, get the Time Stone, and miss shots from the space man - who was also named Peter...Peter Quill? - before walking through a portal, presumably back to Earth to get the final stone.

But he did feel the end.

When the reality of the lost finally slammed on the little group in space, it was too late.

Thanos got exactly what he wanted, what he came for. He was one step closer to his goal: wiping out half the universe. Half the world would be gone. It could be Ned, or MJ, maybe even Aunt May. And it would be Peter's fault because he couldn't stop the stone's from falling into the wrong hands. But he wasn't able to feel guilt. He - and half of the universe - felt something much worse.

Of course, some time has passed since Thanos time portal-ed out of the weird space planet. Peter knew that the rest of the Avenger's - and whoever else was helping back on Earth - would put up one heck of a fight. 

And trust me, they did. Because Peter stood on that planet, watching Mr. Stark get mad about losing the time stone and talking for plenty of time before the end really hit them.

He watched helplessly as his teammates literally faded from his eyes. All those weird space people, the wizard...and somehow Peter felt like he was next. His gut told him something inevitable was coming.

The world suddenly came out of focus. The floating chunks of the random planet seemed fuzzy. How was he even breathing - he knew for sure this wasn't Earth and it's large, breathable atmosphere. His hands tingled and his body and mind became utterly dizzy all at once. Peter Parker felt like his stomach was turning to mush.

His Iron Spider suit was now too tight. His hands flew and twisted around the empty space, trying to find stability but to no avail. So instead, both the left and right arm flung around his core, clutching his middle before he started to lean forward.

...and he was babbling, repeating ever sentence more than it was necessary. His lips were moving and he didn't quite process what exactly was happening. Although Tony Stark did. And by the look in his eyes...they were heartbreaking. Yes, he was one of the only pair of eyes to look to, but Peter wouldn't have wanted anyone else there with him.

The words finally caught up to him. Peter slowly understood, yet he didn't want to. Oh, if only he stayed on the bus.

"Mr. Stark."

It was like a cry for help, a whimper. Peter was begging. Begging for what exactly? Not to fade away. And Tony had absolutely no idea how to stop it. He wanted to so badly because a kid as special, happy, and selfless as Peter didn't deserve this. Tony's mind was searching for any possible way to fix this mess. He didn't want to see Aunt May broken when the news finally got out. He didn't want the guilt anymore - he wanted Peter alive more than anything.

"Mr. Stark, I don't feel so good."

But Peter continued. And the question of why he could feel it deep in his bones before anyone else even realized what was happening to them scared him. It was almost like he was hand chosen to...to...fade from existence. And he, well, he kind of was.

"Mr. Stark, please."

And of course, Peter would fall to him. Of course, Peter would fall right into Tony's arms and literally beg for help. Tony was Peter's mentor, his idol...you could even say he was the closest thing he had to a father. And Tony did not want to be a repeat of his own dad. So they hugged; Peter's whole arms were wrapped around Tony and he squeezed. Peter tugged at Tony's clothes, trying to find any stable piece. It was like he was slipping out of sanity and needed something to hold him back.

"Please, Mr. Stark, I don't wanna go. Don't let me go."

Peter had no choice but to lean on Tony. He felt his own legs slowly turning to ashes. It was the point where he couldn't hold himself up anymore. Tony realized this and slowly brought the kid to the ground, as he kept begging. Every time Tony's name was spoken, it was like a dagger to the heart. He was trusted and here he was, letting people down again.

Guess it ran in the family?

"I don't want to die."

Peter didn't really know where he was going to, but he didn't want it to happen. He couldn't leave Aunt May alone again, worrying. He did not want to fade away into nothingness. He was at the peak of his life - he was happy. And by the looks of what happened to the others, it wasn't exactly painful...and it wasn't. It felt like something else was happening. He seemed to drift away, like a deep sleep. But would he ever wake up?

"Please, I don't want to go."

Peter sniffled, blinking away the tears. He dug what was left of his body into the ground as if it would make him stay. His right hand was still wrapped around Tony, ruffling up the hair around his neck. Peter's eyes flickered around the world. Man, he never realized how beautiful it must have looked before it was destroyed.

The orange atmosphere burned in the distance and those floating chucks were like battle scars. Then, his eyes finally landed on his mentor. Peter thought Tony was going through some pain of his own. Peter didn't want to make him feel like this. Peter himself didn't want to feel this way. Actually, he couldn't feel anything at all.

"I'm sorry," he breathed.

The words were a whisper and he barely heard them himself. But they were there, because Tony Stark clearly heard them. And it was like that dagger in his heart was just twisted.

Peter was sorry. Sorry for disobeying Tony and staying on that hula-hoop in the sky. He was sorry for making Tony feel like his death was because of him. Sorry for trying to save people when he was just some show-toy for the small folks. He was sorry that he was dying and didn't even know how to stop it or why it was happening. He didn't actually know what it was. But he was sorry.

And that was when his vision became fuzzy. The tingle in his bones stopped, because it was when he realized that Peter no longer had bones. He was now drifting off into the nothingness of the planet where it went down - only because he had no idea what happened on Earth.

Peter knew he was warned from his spider senses of the danger. And then his advanced healing tried to help, but it only made him fading away drag out. It just made everything worse.

Worse for Tony, as well. Because he still wished it wasn't real even though he knew the inevitable was still coming. The good guys always win. Tony had always won; he always ended up on top. But...today seemed different. There were millions of thoughts in his head at that moment, but the biggest one was: Was I too hard on him?

Tony was in disbelief. Peter was gone and it was he felt as if it was all his fault.

He dug his hand into the spot where the teen was previously laying. Dust and ashes filled his grip before drifting off into the wind of the long broken orange planet, Titan. He watched the remains fade away into the distance. The sun was low on the horizon.

Tony then tensed up his hands, watching his fingers. He waited but nothing happened. He didn't disappear, yet everyone else did. There was no tingle in his bones, but there was plenty of regret to go around.

It was his fault. The vision he had a while back reminded him of the end - and it was exactly correct. Why didn't he save them?

The blue robot girl said something. Honestly, Tony had no idea who she was or where she came but he rolled with it. She helped fight but it still wasn't enough. The two of them were the only ones left on the planet. Because Thanos had gotten exactly what he wanted, now half the universe was gone.

A memory filled his head:

\--"What if somebody had died tonight? Different story, right? 'Cause that's on you. And if you died, I feel like that's on me. I don't need that on my conscience."

"Yes, sir. I..."

"Yes."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't cut it."

"I understand. I just-I just wanted to be like you."

"And I wanted you to be better."--

Tony rocked himself. He sat down and moved back and forth, shock in his veins. His hands were gathered at his mouth and his eyes drifted close. He messed up, god he messed up. How would he get back to Earth? Did he really want to go back, knowing what happened to Peter? Who was going to tell his aunt that he never made it home from the field trip?

Would Pepper still be one of the unlucky souls to still be living?

How in the world was this going to be fixed?


End file.
